


Not A Birthday

by lyonie17



Category: Little Fuzzy Series - H. Beam Piper
Genre: Gen, Yuletide 2008
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-02
Updated: 2009-01-02
Packaged: 2017-10-11 17:50:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/115076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyonie17/pseuds/lyonie17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack Holloway ponders what to make do. It all works out with Fuzzies.</p><p>[The treat I wrote for David Hines.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not A Birthday

Jack didn't believe in birthdays. Well, he believed they existed, but not that the day was a good excuse for a big party. People (of any species) tended to make too many excuses for a big party as it was, without birthdays added into the mix.

Not doing birthdays did make it awkward to find appropriate gift-giving times, though. He'd been waiting to give Little Fuzzy his rifle for a good two weeks now, and the case was starting to get dusty on the shelf. He'd even started to say something a couple times, but changed it to an esteefee invitation, because he couldn't think how to say it.

It wasn't until Gerd pointed out that the anniversary of Little Fuzzy's adopting Pappy Jack was next week that there was any hope of a nice quiet hunting trip with one and a half (size) rifles. After that, and after enlisting Gerd and Ruth's help with fuzzy-sitting, and letting everyone (who had any right to) know where he would be for three days, and making sure that George and company wouldn't be overflying them more than once a day and spoiling the game, Jack packed up some grub, and esteefee, and picked up Little Fuzzy in the jeep.

Jack headed upcountry, listening to Little Fuzzy's account of his day, and relaxing. It had been far too long since he'd had a day, or even half a day, with Little Fuzzy. Maybe, if they got tired of looking for things to shoot, they could go fishing. Jack wasn't too sure what kind of fish they could catch up here, or if either of them could eat it, but fishing was a universal experience. Everyone should try it sometime.

Little Fuzzy was happy to have Pappy Jack to himself. He really liked his job at the Post, and meeting new People every day, but it was nice to do something else too. About the time Jack started looking for a good camping spot, Little Fuzzy wanted to know what the occasion was.

"What we make do, Pappee Jaak? Find new Fuzzies?" That would be fun, and he could introduce Pappy Jack, who always made a good impression on new Fuzzies.

"No, Little Fuzzy. Not look for more Fuzzies. If we find them, we make talk, but we're going hunting, Big People style." That was a very exciting idea. Fuzzies liked to do things Big People did, and Little Fuzzy really liked to do new things with Pappy Jack.

Jack landed the jeep, and they took a few minutes setting up. Jack got the gun cases out last of all, and gently set the smaller one in front of Little Fuzzy.

"This is for you. Pappy Jack made it for you, to give today. Today is five years since you came to Pappy Jack's house and hid in the shower. This to show that Pappy Jack very happy you came to him, and very happy you stayed."

Little Fuzzy made short work of the catches, which were carefully Fuzzy-sized. No use giving him a weapon he couldn't get at when he needed it.

The yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek! that followed was all Jack could have hoped. Little Fuzzy sat and looked at the rifle for a minute, still yeeking, until he looked up at Pappy Jack to thank him, and realized he'd dropped out of Big People Talk. He jumped up then and hugged Pappy Jack for a long time, and then clambered down to look at his rifle again.

After that it was "When we make shoot? What we make shoot? Shoot damn-t'ing, shoot zat-ku, shoot t'ee, shoot -" shoot cans, for a start, Jack decided.

Cans died satisfactorily. Tree branches died better, mostly since they made more noise falling. Zat-ku died thrillingly, and Jack thought that was probably enough for one day. There should be more adventure left for tomorrow.

A damn-thing was enough adventure for the next day, but Little Fuzzy got his shot in, and after they'd dragged the carcass off for scavengers, Little Fuzzy was ready for the next thing. The next thing was fishing.

Jack showed Little Fuzzy how to make a pole, how to set a hook with some bait, and then demonstrated the swing. This took a little doing for a Person with a much lower center of gravity, but Little Fuzzy managed his pole with panache.

They didn't ever catch anything fishing, and Jack decided a survey on the advisability of seeding some Terran fish, and then selling licenses to big-wigs, wouldn't come amiss. Gerd would be amused.

Having consumed their customary esteefee and coffee, respectively, Little Fuzzy and Pappy Jack were beginning to settle in for the night when the comscreen chimed. Ruth's face coalesced with a background of aircar and Fuzzies, and Jack started to laugh.

"Gerd and I decided that we needed a holiday too, and of course, so do all the Fuzzies. We've got a reading on your jeep, but Gerd says can you light a flare so we don't try to park on top of you?"

Once everyone was landed and greeted properly, which involved Human People just sitting down on the ground until they stopped getting hugged, and a lot of yeeeking and dancing around from Fuzzies, Little Fuzzy showed off his new present. He killed a few cans, to great applause, and then carefully began showing the grown-up Fuzzies how to aim and squeeze on an empty chamber.

Gerd and Ruth were sitting together, sharing a mug of coffee, and smiling at the Fuzzies. Baby Fuzzy had decided that he didn't care about killing cans anyway, and that braiding Auntee Woof's hair was much more fun. At least, that's what it looked like to Jack, and Ruth didn't seem to mind.

"Apparently, things that make noise and break things are universally fun." Ruth looked amused.

"It's exciting and new. It will be a tool after a while, but that's why I gave one to Little Fuzzy first. He'll get the others used to the idea, like he did shoppo-diggas."

Gerd nodded. "I think you're right about that. Did I hear Little Fuzzy say something about fishing, when we got here? Thought there wasn't much water-life up this far?"

"There isn't. It was the idea of fishing, more than the catching of fish. But I have an idea about that, for when we get back to the Post. In the meantime, I will tell you the tale of Little Fuzzy and the damn-thing whose corpse now decorates a treetop three or four clicks west of here."

"Sounds like a good yarn," Gerd agreed, and Ruth nodded.


End file.
